


Did I Dream This Belief or Did I Believe This Dream

by Aishuu



Series: East Kingdoms Block Party [15]
Category: Juuni Kokki | Twelve Kingdoms
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Recovery, The Livejournal exodus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 18:22:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2438441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aishuu/pseuds/Aishuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sugimoto Yuka's return to Japan doesn't go unnoticed by the media.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Did I Dream This Belief or Did I Believe This Dream

When she arrived back in Tokyo, her world changed.  
  
Yuka's reappearance caused a huge stir within Japan, since the attack on her school and the disappearance of herself, Nakajima and Asano had made international news. She was nearly overwhelmed by members of the media as they bombarded her with questions about where she'd been and what had happened.   
  
She, of course, wasn't going to tell them about the other world. She didn't want them to think her crazy. So instead she pretended the trauma of her kidnapping – a couple of the more ingenious media members had dubbed it a kamikakusho – had imposed amnesia. Of course, there was no real medical support for that theory, but as long as she kept her mouth shut, no one would be the wiser. It wasn't like she was guilty of any crimes.  
  
Well, in Japan. If people ever found out how she had acted in the Twelve Kingdoms, they would never be able to look at her again. She had committed assault, attempted murder and had betrayed a girl who would have been her friend. She had, in short, gone completely around the bend. It was only because she'd been very, very lucky that she hadn't done anything that couldn't be repaired.  
  
She did feel guilty that she was unable to say anything to Nakajima or Asano's parents about where their children were. Nakajima was never coming back, and she had no clue what had befallen Asano. It was better to let them live with a illusion of hope than the harsh truth of disappointment. It might be crueler in the long run, but what she knew of the truth was so absurd that it would serve no one.  
  
It was decided that she would be held back in school for a year, since she had missed too long a gap for her to make up. It gave her several months to settle back into life, as she began to return to the mundane details of her life, like remembering to charge her cell phone or turn the lights off when she left a room. She had completely discarded this old life after Keiki had taken her, and trying to reclaim it was another way of admitting how wrong she'd been.  
  
There were people in this world who cared about her, she knew now. Her parents had been so happy to see her again that they treated her like glass, afraid she would break if they weren't paying attention. She found their overly attentive gestures to be a bit annoying, but she let them do what they want, knowing things would get better once it became apparent she wasn't going to vanish if they blinked.  
  
And she was right.  
  
Gradually the media lost interest in her, and her parents began to relax. She took to studying her old textbooks, trying to catch up so she would be ready for the school year to start. She worked as hard as she could, trying to ground herself in the reality of Japan. Life on the other side began to fade from her memory, and sometimes she wondered if she had made the whole thing up.  
  
When the wind started to bear the scent of sakura, she gladly recognized that school was about to start for its next session. She had bought three new uniforms – she had grown two inches, and was too large for the two she currently had. Her old third had been destroyed.  
  
The day before she returned to classes, she visited a hair salon. Usually she had her mother trim it, but she felt it was time for a change. The customers looked at her peculiarly, like they were trying to remember where they'd seen her before. She just kept her eyes locked on the three-month-old fashion magazine that was the best of the slim pickings the salon had offered its clientèle.   
  
"What would you like done, dear?" the middle-aged beautician said.  
  
Her hair had grown long enough to fall over her shoulders, and she had been using it to hide behind. She'd learned how to angle her neck forward so it would hide her face. "Cut it off," she said. "I want to have short and elegant hair."  
  
"Shorter hair would bring out your eyes, and highlight your cheekbones," the beautician agreed. Before Yuka had a chance to change her mind, the scissors closed over a chunk of her hair, leaving her no other option.  
  
Half an hour later, she stared at the reflection in the mirror, studying the stranger she saw. _Hello, Sugimoto Yuka,_ she thought. _It's nice to finally meet you._


End file.
